Lee's Miserables
by Lanoire
Summary: Another short product of too much studying for history. George and his friends read a book and take more than just nicknames from it.


 Disclaimer: Les Miserables and all characters are Victor Hugo's, but all my little soldiers are mine. Generals Lee and McClellan belong to themselves. 

Notes: Remember that story with Susan B. Anthony caused by too much study? Meet its cousin. 

  "What is that you're reading? The bible?"

 "It looks big enough, doesn't it?" George closed the book he had been reading and handed it to his friend Charles, who stood before him. Charles turned over the book to look at the cover. 

  "_Les Miserables_? Is that how you say it?"

 "As far as I can figure," George said, getting to his feet. Charles opened up the heavy book. 

  "It sure is long," Charles commented.

  "This war sure is long," George replied. "I'm hoping to finish it before I get home."

  Charles and George strode through the dirty little camp down the path lined with battered tents. In the lull between battles, many were bent over bits of paper, writing letters home to family and friends. A group of about six men were playing cards, while several others watched. Charles settled down in conversation with some of the card players and George settled down in his book. Absorbed in the trials of Jean Valjean, it took George a moment to notice that the conversation around him had stopped. He lowered his book.

  "What?" he asked, seeing the card players and those watching them were now all staring at him. Charles beamed.

  "I told them you'd read us a story," Charles said. "So gather 'round, gents. George is gonna read to us and it's gonna be just like sitting on your mammy's knee at home." 

  "Do I go back to the start?" George asked, shutting the book but keeping his thumb on his current page.

  "Nah," a boy called Daniel said. "Just start from wherever you are and tell us what's happened."

  "Alright. So, there's this convict named Jean Valjean..." 

     When George finished his summary, pious Edmund, one of the soldiers listening, was quickly dubbed 'Valjean.' Edmund protested, saying that he wasn't an old man, nor a convict, and why didn't anyone else have to have a foolish nickname?

   "I promise you, dear Valjean, that all will have equally foolish nicknames before this war is over," Charles teased, then turned to George, waiting for him to start reading. 

   George had left off his own reading at the introduction of that curious creature, the gamin, and picked up reading there. Caleb, a boy from a little farm in Virginia who was by far the youngest in the troop at only twelve, was dubbed Gavroche. Caleb wasn't like Edmund... he flushed with pleasure at being teased, at being included in the group. Unable to think of anyone, they reserved the nickname 'Pontmercy', but 'Thenardier' was immediately the nickname applied to Abraham Lincoln.

  "'Cause they're both slimy cons," one named Edward explained. The others, being loyal Confederates, agreed. George grinned at their enthusiasm. As he read, he skipped around a bit, shortening chunks of text that he thought would bore the boys. He read all the skipped parts on his own later, but the tale he read to his fellow soldiers was a bit more to the point than Mister Hugo's original text. 

   When the Friends of the ABC were introduced, the boys were interested.

    "Now here they are, the underdogs, fightin' for what is right when everyone else thinks they're wrong, just like us," one of the boys, Walter, said. 

    "And I betcha they win, just like we're gonna!" another boy, Nicholas, added excitedly. There were, in all, eleven of them listening to the story, including George and Charles. Besides them, there were Caleb (now Gavroche) and Edmund (Valjean), as well as Walter, Edward, Joseph, Daniel, Gabriel, David, Hiram, and Nicholas. Each were eager to be named after one of the Friends of the ABC, who, because both fought for a Cause, they all felt close to.

    Golden-haired Gabriel, the leader of their bunch and the highest ranking among them, was nicknamed Enjolras, a name he was immensely proud of, though he acted casual about it. George laughingly nicknamed Charles Courfeyrac, and the other boys agreed that it suited him, even if none of them could pronounce it properly. Bespectacled David, even more fond of books than George, was dubbed Combeferre, while Joseph became Bossuet. Walter was Joly, though he was jokingly called Cosette for a short period, as well. That didn't stick, though, and Joly did. Nicholas, a dark-haired orphan, became Feuilly, while shy Daniel was nicknamed Prouvaire. Firey Hiram became Bahorel. And last, Edward, older than the rest of them and more than a bit fond of drink, became Grantaire. 

    "_Les Miserables_," Combeferre mused one day, looking at the cover of the book. "That's us. Lee's Miserables." 

     "I like life in the army," Gavroche chirped, his face pinched from too little food, his feet flapping in too-big shoes. Truly, the title of 'Lee's Miserables' suited them perfectly. Though they were not fighting right then, when they did, it would be with poor weapons, mismatched uniforms, and no shoes. Half the camp was sick, and of their little group, Joly was nicknamed such for a reason. 

      One day, while reading, Prouvaire noticed George's slightly wistful expression whenever he read about Cosette. He asked him about it.

     "Have you a Cosette of your own?" he asked, and George nodded. 

      "That settles it, then!" Courfeyrac said brightly. "You will be Pontmercy!" 

        The day was September 12th, 1862. 

        On September 15th, all were eager to hear more of the story, for General Lamarque had died, the barricades were being built, and Marius was despairing over Cosette's going away. George read excitedly, wanting, as much as the others, to know what happened on the barricade. He, like the others, was sure that Enjolras and the Friends of the ABC would win. They had to. The first battle began, and though they paused for a moment to mourn Father Mabeuf, George continued, desperate to know how the battle transpired... then stopped abruptly. 

        "Why did you stop?" Hiram demanded, sounding a bit disappointed. George swallowed.

      "I-I... um... I'm a little tried. I'm gonna go to bed. I'll read more... later..." 

      The boys protested, but George headed off to his tent anyway. He wasn't tired in the least. But he couldn't keep reading to them, because... because... Bahorel died. That wasn't supposed to happen. He opened the book and kept reading. Prouvaire, Eponine, Gavroche, Feuilly, Bossuet, Joly, Combeferre, Courfeyrac... all of them... killed. He could only assume that the same fate befell Enjolras, Grantaire, Valjean, and Marius, but he couldn't make himself read on to see. It wasn't supposed to happen that way. They were supposed to win. They had to win. They had to. 

     The next day, a long-awaited battle began. The men rose early and formed their ranks, George grabbing his gun, Gavroche his drum, Prouvaire the regiment's flag. And away they marched, meeting the opponent, McClellan's army, at a place they later learned was called Sharpsburg. George didn't expect it to be any different from the other battles. The gunfire started... then Bahorel died. 

    After Prouvaire was shot down, the flag clasped tight in his hands, George realized, horrified, that it was just like in the book. First Bahorel, then Prouvaire... no more of their little cluster died before night fell. But the battle would continue the next day. And George could already guess what that day would bring.

    Gavroche was singing the song of the Confederacy, loudly, proudly. He tried to steal a gun from a dead Union soldier when he was shot thrice. Down went Bossuet and Joly. Courfeyrac and Feuilly next. Combeferre tried to help move a wounded man out of the way when his chest became acquainted with a bayonet. Night fell. One more day. And, George was sure, four more deaths. 

   Graintaire went down early in the battle. This, George noticed wasn't exactly how it was gone, but it didn't really matter. He and Enjolras fought side-by-side until it was almost nightfall. Until the fifth flag holder was shot down and Enjolras rushed to pick it up. He was able to give the Confederate flag two good waves, one right, one left, before he went down, a chest full of bullets. Night fell. General Lee ordered a retreat. George was still alive. 

    When they had gotten a safe distance away from McClellan and the camp had settled down a bit, George, bewildered and lonely, took out _Les Miserables. _Only one of their group had survived besides him, and that was Edmund, who had been nicknamed Valjean. But Edmund had been shot in the shoulder, arm, and leg and wasn't expected to live. So George opened the book and read. And he was lost in the book as the barricades fell and Pontmercy lived and got to be with Cosette. And sometime in the night someone poked their head in his tent to tell him that Edmund had just passed, and it was then that Thenardier was telling Pontmercy that his father in law was a murderer and he realized he had been wrong to send Valjean away and then Cosette was finally told the truth about her mother, Fantine, and... and... 

   As he read the final word and turned the final page, George knew he had been called Pontmercy for a good reason, though his friends couldn't have known it when he was given the nickname. He would live through this war, and he would return home to Virginia, to his Cosette. The last of Lee's Miserables. 


End file.
